


Paper Ridden Love

by orphan_account



Category: Alice Mare
Genre: Gen, Post-Recipient of Love Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Recipient of Love ending, Teacher gets his letters and learns what it means to be loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Ridden Love

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo... I absolutely love this game, and Teacher's character fascinates me. So I wrote this, basically for fun, so the quality might not be too good, but hey, I think its readible. 
> 
> Also, in case you hadn't guessed, there are major spoilers for just about the entire game. But if you haven't finished the game and you are still searching for fanfiction, then you probably don't care too much about that.

The first paper plane smelled like books. He knew these books. They stood in the library of his house. He had smelled their scent every day when he woke up, day in, day out.

How the paper plane got here, he didn't know. He didn't care, either.

He opened it, slowly, to savor this sensation. This scent. It reminded him of home, of happy times, of better times, of times where he didn't have to run from the Cheshire Cat and the White Rabbit alike, of times where he could sleep soundly, of times where he could safely stay in one place. He needed that memory. He had almost forgotten it.

He opened the paper plane, to read the message that was possibly written within, and warmth flooded him.

The warmth slipped out of the paper and surrounded him, intruding every opening in his body, his nose, his ears, his mouth. It all seemed to gather in his chest, where it exploded.

He grabbed his chest and doubled over, groaning. It hurt. But it didn't, at the same time. It felt good. But it hurt, it hurt so much.

When the pain finally subsided, he managed to take a look at the airplane.

_Don't worry, Teacher. We're getting you out of there. We're destroying that place. Until then, we'll be sending you our love. – Allen._

He read the message. He read it twice, trice, four times, and he still couldn't believe it.

Allen. Allen had managed to send him a message to him. From the real world.

_We're destroying that place._

What did they mean by that? Were they trying to succeed where he had failed? He didn't know whether he hoped that or not. It was dangerous, very dangerous so, but if they succeeded...

If they succeeded...

If they succeeded, they could save so many souls. Including himself.

_Until then, we'll be sending you our love._

Love...

That warmth that he had felt...

Was that love?

…

The second airplane came not too long afterwards. Or at least, he didn't think it came too long afterwards. Time was hard to guess in this place.

_Allen says that you can get these, Teacher. I'm not too sure myself, but Rick says so too. So I'll believe it. I want to believe it! Teacher, Allen told us everything. We're getting you out! We're reading through your research, and it's really complicated, but Allen can understand it. And Cliff is helping us, too. He's a really nice guy and he's taking good care of us. So please don't worry about us._

_Teacher, I hope that you can wake up soon. Cliff's nice, but he's nowhere near as nice as you. I miss you. Rick misses you too. And Chelsy. And Joshua. And Stella, even if she doesn't want to admit it. Even Cliff misses you. And of course, Allen. I think he misses you the most out of all of us._

_Please Teacher, hang on. We're coming for you. XXX – Letty_

The warmth once again enveloped him, but it hurt less, this time. The letter smelled of chocolate. The chocolate that you could buy in the village. He had had better chocolate – the ones in Belgium were especially tasty – but these were good none the less. The baker sold them, along with his tarts, bread, buns and other goods. In fact, the baker in town sold everything but meat and fruit. It wasn't so much a baker as a supermarket.

He inhaled the scent and pressed the letter close to where his heart should've been. A faint smile played along his lips.

They were happy. They were safe. Cliff was taking care of them.

He had succeeded.

The smile grew wider.

…

The third plane arrived almost immediately after the second. In fact, he was still sitting on the ground, pressing the plane to his chest, when the third arrived.

This one smelled of cakes. The kind that were sold right next to the chocolate by the baker. Carrot cake, he thought it was.

_Teacher, Letty already sent you a letter, but I wanted to send one too. I know it's stupid, because we're one and the same, but it didn't feel right not to write you one myself. I shouldn't indulge myself in things like this, I know: I exist to keep Letty safe and happy, nothing more, nothing less._

_Yet, you always treated me as if I was my own person. You bought me separate clothes, a separate bed, gave me my own plate, my own chair, my own notebook. It felt good. Very good._

_Teacher, did you know that most of the people who heard Letty talk about me thought that she was crazy? She isn't. She's a bit broken, maybe, but that's my fault. You were the first. The first to believe her when she said that she had a brother. Even after you knew what I was, you still kept treating me the same as her._

_I don't know why. I'm not my own person. I shouldn't be. I should only be there for Letty._

_Teacher, I don't want to be there only for Letty. I want to be my own person. I miss you. I miss you a lot. You treated me as if I existed, even though that wasn't really the case. Thank you. Thank you so much._

_Allen says that we can get you out of there if we can figure out how the demons create the world. Your research is really helping us. Thank you for that, too._

_Teacher, I hope that you're okay. Please be okay. We're saving you, but you need to be prepared for that, too._

_Thank you, Teacher. Thank you for everything. Stay strong. It's my turn to repay you. Rick._

The warmth was just as strong, just as powerful as the warmth that had come from the other letters. Rick always had a habit of putting himself down. He had never quite managed to make that stop, even though he had tried. It made him sad to see that he still thought of himself as a mere tool for Letty.

But, as the warmth enveloped him, he smiled.

…

The fourth plane came at an extremely inconvenient time.

"Why don't you just give up, _David_? Just let me destroy your soul, and it will all be over."

The Cheshire Cat grinned at him as he slowly moved closer. He fisted the letters in his pocket. He would not let the Cat take them. Over his dead body.

Then, at that exact moment, the fourth one arrived.

"Ooooh, what is this?" the Cheshire grinned as he grabbed the plane out of the air. He smelled at it. "Cherry! Delicious. I haven't smelled this in a loooooong time."

Cherry. There was a cherry blossom in his backyard. Were there cherries on it already?

_Focus_ , he told himself, and held out his hand. It was shaking slightly.

"Give that paper plane," he commanded, fighting the tremor out of his voice.

"Nope! I have never seen this happening. Wonder what it is~" the Cat said in a singsong voice as he opened the letter. It took all he had not to jump on him. That was his letter. That cat shouldn't be touching it, with his filthy fingers.

The Cheshire's eyes rolled over the page and he began to read in a mocking manner.

" _Dear Teacher. I hope you're alright! I miss you so, so much. Writing on paper is way easier than talking. I can say as much as I want on paper, so I'm glad that I don't have to talk. Not that I don't like to talk to you! It's just... hard._

_It's been a lot of months since you've been asleep. I miss you a lot. We all do, including Cliff. I was a bit scared of him at first, but he's a good guy. Almost as nice as you._

_Teacher, we're trying to get you out, but if you can get out on your own, please do. I miss you. I really, really miss you. Please wake up soon. Love, Chelsy._ "

Chelsy. How did Chelsy's letter smell like Cherry? Chelsy didn't want to go anywhere near the cherry tree, at least, not while there were cherries on it. She hated that color, the color red.

"Aw, how cute. You're children are sending you letters! Chelsy... wasn't that the one who had to go to Granny's house? Ah, yes, now I remember! She was the one who had to solve my riddle! In the end, Allen did it, that blasted boy, but hey, that's how it goes sometimes."

The Cheshire grinned his ugly grin and Teacher wanted to punch his face so badly.

"And look how she signs it! 'Love, Chelsy'. Ha! You don't really think that they can love you, right? They were good children, even if a bit dumb. Yes, good children, all of them. How could they ever love you?"

He felt his hand tighten on the letters in his pocket. The Cheshire was right. They were all good children. They shouldn't be able to love him.

So what was that warmth then, that all letters seemed to have? Hate? No, that didn't seem right.

"Anyway, I'll be taking this. Maybe Rabbit can do something with it."

"NO!" he yelled, and charged forwards. Cheshire easily dodged him.

"Attached, are you? Sad. They can't love you, so they're not worth your love."

And with those words, the Cheshire shredded the paper into a million tiny pieces. They fluttered to the ground, gently, like leaves in the wind.

"Well, my work here is done. See you later, Davy."

With a _poof!_ , the cat was gone.

He fell to his knees and crawled towards the destroyed letter. He held the pitiful scraps of paper in his hands; all that was left of his child's letter.

Yet, even shredded, they gave off a faint glow.

He pocketed the shreds and continued forward, trying to get away from as far of the room as possible.

…

There was a very long pause in letters after that. He read, reread and re-reread the ones he already had, until they were all almost as unreadable as the shredded one. He held them close to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from it.

Was it love? Allen said that they would send him love. But the Cheshire said that it couldn't be love, because his children were good people.

Bad people were the only one that could love, if only you loved them. That was what the Cheshire had taught him all those years ago.

But this warmth... this warmth...

What else could it be other than love?

He thought and thought about it until he was exhausted and needed to sleep, but he could come up with nothing.

Allen said that they would send love.

Cheshire said that good people couldn't love.

This was contradictive.

Unless...

His breath caught in his throat.

Unless the Cheshire had lied.

That was the only logical conclusion. He knew the Cheshire, he knew that all he did was lie. Lie after lie after lie, with the sparse truth mixed in to spice it up a bit. Of course it was a lie. Of course.

But then...

He thought back to his own Teacher, who had given him this mocking name. Recipient of Love. He had never received any love, not from anybody, ever. He was disappointed in himself for not living up to his magnificent name.

Or maybe, he had been on the receiving end of love, but simply hadn't noticed.

He thought back to when his Teacher had named him. He had been six years old and had been living on the streets with Fiona for three years. They had never had any names until Teacher picked them up.

Recipient of Love.

Why had she decided to call him that?

" _The light in your eyes shines so brightly; you bring joy to whoever you're around. You're a giver of love. But, we must not forget to give you some love in return. That's why you shall be Recipient of Love, David._ "

It had been a wish. A wish that he wouldn't turn out like this.

He pulled the letters even closer to his chest and let the warmth destroy him.

…

The fifth letter arrived when he was asleep. Or at least, he presumed that it had arrived when he was asleep. It was just there when he woke up.

_Yo, Teacher! I hope that you're not mad that it took me so long to write a letter. I just didn't know what to write about. I'm sure that the others have already told you what had happened here for the last year. Now we have news. Guess what? There's a new kid with us! Allen found him and had Cliff pick him up. It's a boy, so now we're with more boys than girls! Yeah! His name's Eric and he's a redhead. Not so much fun to prank, though. Kind of quiet, like Allen. He does make really funny noises when he's angry! His head turns completely red, like a pumpkin! It's so much fun to see! Not like you when you're angry. You're actually pretty scary. I was so surprised the first time; I didn't think that you could actually get angry. You were a lot of fun to prank, though, so I guess that makes up for it._

_We're on the right track, Teacher. We're trying so hard to get you out, and Cliff and Allen think that we may have found a lead. It's very vague, so I don't know, but I hope it works. I miss pranking you. Your scared face is funny!_

_Stay strong, Teach! We're coming for you! Joshua/Mark/Benedict/Four/FrogLordSupreme._

This one smelled like the pond behind his house. The one with the rotting pants, where Joshua always catches the frogs. It stunk, but he didn't care. He was grinning like a madman. Joshua hadn't lost his prankster attitude after all. He was really, really glad.

He slept with the letter as a cushion, inhaling the warmth and smiling through his dreamless night.

…

The sixth letter smelled like a freshly baked meal. He knew the dish. It was one that he had learnt abroad and then taught Cliff. He made it regularly at home for the children.

This one didn't have a single word on it. Instead, a large, wounded heart was at one side of the paper. It bled furiously, was ragged, and nearly falling apart. In the background, he saw countless graves. He shuddered.

Then, on the other side of the paper, the heart was fixed with band aids, thread, and patches. The graves had become beautiful apple trees. Around the heart, he saw five people patching the heart up. And in the middle of the heart sat a brilliant star.

He smiled and brushed his hands over the star. Stella. Of course she wouldn't write anything, she never had. She preferred the art as medium.

The warmth seemed to spread out of the star, and kept his heart warm.

…

In the end, he had 318 letters, that he somehow all managed to keep in his pocket. They smelled of home, provided him warmth in this cold, cold place and, most of all, taught him love.

The last letter he received before the end was from Allen.

_Teacher, we're almost there. Hold on for a little longer. We love you. – Allen._

Not so long later, the world started to fall apart.

And as everything crumbled to pieces and he jumped into the Lake of Reincarnation to escape, those love-filled letters filled up the hole in his heart and provided him with enough love to keep him warm throughout the coldest winter nights.


End file.
